A Strain on the Eyes
by HiddenValor
Summary: There's a new arrival at Chiron's Academy, but it's not a new cadet. A strange occurrance to say the least. Have our heroes found a new foe, or a new friend? Please read and review. Ch. 2 Up!
1. Overexertion

A/N: Hi! I'm HiddenValor, and this is my first fan fiction for _Young Hercules_, but don't let that stop you from leaving reviews. :P

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or settings associated with the _Young Hercules _franchise. I do own my original character. Any similarities between any other fan fictions are purely coincidental, but from what I can see, no one has yet used this plot bunny.

Full summary: There's a surprise arrival at Cheiron's Academy, but it's not a new cadet. How's that for an original spin? Set sometime after Jason's coronation. Possible pairing between an OC and a supporting character.

* * *

In the paleness of the misty morning, a lone traveler seated upon a small horse-drawn wagon meandered leisurely down a beaten dirt road, taking care to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. There was no hurry. The single honey-colored horse, Spyros, stopped a moment to nibble on the nearby foliage, but then clopped on quietly at his master's bidding.

The road ran for a long stretch next to a forest now shrouded in mist. It was the long way 'round, but the traveler could not take the wagon through the forest because of the closeness of the trees. On the other side of road was a wide field, green with lush grass and glittering with dew.

Because the morning was cool, the traveler wore a thick cloak with the hood drawn up. For the most part, it was brown, dulled from wear and patched with similar colors to conceal the tears. It was trimmed with what used to be a vibrant red brocade, but was so caked with dirt and dust that its intense shade had turned ruddy. None of the traveler's other garments could be seen outside the cocoon the cloak had created. The traveler's two hands, visible against the brown fabric, held loosely upon the reins, trusting the horse to go where he had been told to go.

Upon turning at a bend in the road, the traveler caught a view of a large stone structure consisting of an outer wall that surrounded a courtyard and the main hold. Several smaller buildings were connected to the main hold, including stables, a barn, and living quarters. It seemed to be a small community unto itself. The road branched into two paths, one continuing straight ahead, and the other turning toward the structure. With a tug on the reins, the traveler turned the horse onto the new path, confident that this was the intended destination.

After a few moments, the traveler slowed the wagon to a stop, gently jumped out, and went to the large wooden doors leading into the main courtyard. The traveler pushed open both doors one at a time and led the horse by the bridle through the gate. The courtyard was empty, save for a few snoring hogs in the hog-pen on the left. Several chickens clucked and cawed in the open coop next to the hog-pen. Without being told where to go, the traveler guided the horse and wagon toward the stables just to the left of the main hold, unhitched Spyros from the wagon, and settled him into one of the stalls, making sure he had enough hay and water.

A voice and the thumping of hooves drew the traveler from the stalls and back into the courtyard. "Good, you have arrived," said the voice's possessor. He was a centaur—half-man and half-horse. His man half was tanned and well-muscled to match the dark and strong frame of his beast half. His long black tail swished gently behind him as he continually shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. "It is good to see you again, my friend. Welcome to my academy," he said with a warm smile as he firmly grasped the traveler's wrist in the traditional greeting. "Let us go inside and discuss the important matters, and then I shall introduce you to the cadets."

* * *

The dining hall was buzzing with activity, but none of it had to do with excitement about the breakfast food. Hercules, the golden-haired son of Zeus, sat across from his best friend Iolaus, a clever and quick ex-thief who was attending the Academy in lieu of spending time in prison. Despite the doubts he had in himself, Iolaus was doing extremely well—in terms of battle skills, that is. He preferred studying girls to studying history or literature.

"Hey, Herc, do you want to visit Jason this weekend?" Iolaus asked as he shoveled a spoonful of brown mush into his mouth. "You know, check and see how the new king of Corinth is doing."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Hercules answered with an excited smile. He was ready and invigorated for the new day of drills and lessons—well, maybe not for the lessons, but at least for the drills. He was good at those. It's not the he was a bad student—he was one of the top cadets at the Academy, in fact; he simply preferred being a warrior to being a scholar. He had great things planned for himself as a warrior, doing such grand deeds as helping the afflicted and defending the weak. Call him an idealist, but by the gods that is what he desired in his heart to do.

"You gonna eat that?" Iolaus asked, pointing toward Hercules' untouched bowl of mush. In his own opinion, Hercules did not think very much of the day's breakfast—or any of the food, for that matter—so he pushed his bowl toward his friend and watched him practically gorge himself on the stuff. A little blob of it dripped onto his green vest, but Iolaus ignored it. "Should we invite Lillith?" he inquired further with a playful smirk. A blonde ringlet of his hair fell out of his ponytail and dangled next to his cheek.

"Invite me to do what?" asked the petite blonde who sat next to Iolaus. She had been talking with Theseus, a strong cadet with skin almost as dark as ebony, until her name was mentioned.

"I dunno, Iolaus," Hercules replied with a sarcastic lift in his eyebrows. "Not after the pig slop incident last week."

"Hey, that was an accident, and you know it!" Lillith scolded. She was a feisty little thing, to be sure. She was also the only female cadet at the Academy; that alone set her apart from the rest of the cadets, no matter how much she tried to fit in, but no one would dare contest her skills and aggression in battle. She had found her niche early on with Hercules, Iolaus, and Jason, while he was still the crown prince, treasuring them as her own brothers.

"You dumped a bucket of pig slop on my head!" Iolaus countered. "No one in their right mind would call that an 'accident,' Lillith."

Lillith scoffed and punched Iolaus hard on his bicep. He cringed and rubbed his arm.

The crowd of cadets fell under a hush as Chiron entered the dining hall, followed by a stranger cloaked in brown. Chiron and the stranger went to the front of the hall, and the centaur addressed his students, the stranger standing at his side. "Cadets," he said in his special tone—the tone he used when he wanted their full attention. "I would like to introduce to you a good friend of mine and a new addition to our academy." He turned as the stranger removed the hood of the cloak. "This is Petra, our new cook."

It was so silent one could hear the hay wrustling in the breeze outside.

The cadets weren't sure what to make of her at first. Some shuffled uncomfortably in their seats; others coughed to clear to silence in the air. Iolaus sat there, a spoonful of mush poised to enter his gaping mouth.

The woman was unattractive to say the least.

The skin on her nose and forehead was burned from sun-exposure, and the rest of her face was pock-marked with small scars around her cheeks and mouth. Her angular nose was noticeably crooked, but only from a certain angle of perspective. There were a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her slick black hair was drawn up into a tight bun on top of her head, pulling at the skin of her face and adding an unnatural sharpness to her features. To compensate, her eyebrows seemed to have grown out of control, as if they planned to overtake her face. She wore a plain outfit under her travel-worn cloak—dirty brown boots, a heavy mud-stained maroon skirt, and a brown leather vest over a white long-sleeved shirt.

And she didn't smile, either. When the cadets remained in silence, she merely lifted a bushy eyebrow and drifted her gaze over every cadet in the hall. Fully aware of the thick tension growing between his friend and the cadets, Chiron broke the silence with his instructions. "I would like a volunteer to assist Petra with her belongings. She will be staying in one of the faculty quarters." He scanned the quiet group with his commanding gaze. After a few tense moments, he said in an enthusiastic tone, "Ah, Iolaus! Thank you for offering your assistance. Her wagon is outside by the stables."

Iolaus was absolutely mortified. "I, uh, hmm…bwuh…" he blabbered and dropped his spoon, spilling his food onto his thigh. He hadn't volunteered! Lillith punched him in the arm again.

"Go help her!" she chided in a whisper.

"Why don't you go do it?" he shot back.

"Because Chiron told _you_ to go!" she hissed.

Iolaus looked again at Chiron's reproving stare and Petra's caterpillar eyebrows, and gulped. He stood and straightened his vest, only then noticing the mush mess on his pants. With a disgruntled huff, he followed Petra out of the dining hall. _They're probably having their own private joke behind my back,_he thought, concerning Hercules, Lillith, and Theseus. Once they had reached the stables, Petra pointed to the large chest in the back of her wagon. Iolaus assumed she wanted him to take it, so he grabbed one of the side handles with one hand and pulled.

The chest didn't budge.

He pulled again and managed to scoot it about a hand-breadth across the floor of the wagon. He feared he may have strained a muscle in his shoulder. Why couldn't Hercules have taken this job? Iolaus grabbed the handle with both hands and tugged and pulled, struggling to get the chest out of the wagon. Petra stood by with her hands clasped gracefully in front of her, watching him toil. _She probably takes some sick pleasure in this,_Iolaus lamented. _This had better be worth it._After a few minutes of sweat and exertion, Iolaus finally gave up on trying to pull the chest. He took a step back and glared at the stupid thing, raining curses on it with his mind. And then he had an idea.

Instead of trying to drag the chest all the way to the other side of the courtyard toward the faculty apartments, he braced himself against the ground and pushed the wagon forward. That way he could use his legs which were much stronger than his arms. Taking a deep breath, he nudged the small wagon to the right toward the other side of the courtyard and began rolling it in that general direction, rehearsing some of Chiron's breathing mantras all the while. He vaguely registered Petra's light footfalls alongside him as he steered the wagon through the courtyard. When he finally reached the faculty apartments, he dropped to his knees and panted for dear life—for indeed the apartments were quite a way from the stables. He rested his forehead on the back of the wagon and thanked all the gods at once for the morning air as a breeze cooled his fiery brow. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and neck and into his vest. That was probably one of the hardest workouts he had ever put himself through.

Iolaus then remembered his task and looked for Petra. She was standing at the door of her apartment, waiting for him to bring her trunk. Taking another deep breath to summon his strength, Iolaus grabbed the side handle with both hands and managed to pull the chest all the way out of the wagon, almost crushing his own foot in the process. He set himself against the short end of the chest and pushed it toward Petra; he almost had to be parallel to the ground in order to apply enough leverage to move the stupid thing. Petra unlocked and opened the door to her apartment and allowed Iolaus to enter first. He pushed the chest to the middle of room and then stopped to rest. "In, out, in, out," he heaved in gasping breaths. He glanced around him at the room; he had never been inside the faculty quarters before. They were certainly much more accommodating that the rigid bunks in the cadets' dormitory.

In the far corner of the room was a low-setting cot; next to it was a stumpy little nightstand to hold a candle or a lantern. On the wall adjacent to the next apartment was a set of deep scroll shelves like Feducius had in his office. There was a washbowl and a mirror on a small vanity in the corner between the scroll shelves and the cot. Petra pointed to the empty space next to the washstand. Iolaus huffed and shoved the chest to the place with his last measure of strength. At that point, he simply sat down against the chest and spread his legs out in front of him. There was a neatly woven rug bearing Chiron's centaur device in the middle of the stone floor. By the open door, there was an arch-shaped window with a blue curtain and an armed cushion chair in the adjoining corner.

Petra extended her arm toward Iolaus. It was then that he noticed her jagged fingernails and a few burn scars peeking out from under her sleeve. He hesitantly took her arm and let her pull him to his feet; she had a certain strength that he had not expected. She reached into her coin purse, but Iolaus was too preoccupied with her eyebrows to notice her slip two dinars into his hand and gently guide him toward the door. He stepped outside and turned around to face her. Without smiling, the strange woman inclined her head in a respectful nod and then closed the door.

Iolaus suddenly felt the cool metal dinars in his palm. He stared down at them and slid them over each other. Was this her way of thanking him? Why didn't she just say it? Iolaus pocketed the money and walked toward the main hold, inwardly groaning in soreness. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N: Well, whaddaya think?


	2. Battle of Food and Will

The next few days passed as normal, without any catastrophes or brawls with Ares, for which Hercules was very grateful. The new cook was very reclusive, so he didn't see much of her either. He supposed that the old cook had been showing her the ropes before her first meal with the cadets, which happened to be tonight's dinner. The food was ready and waiting for the cadets as they entered the dining hall; it was still hot, but there was no sign of the new cook.

Hercules hesitantly prodded at the food in front of him. It actually looked edible and delicious this time. There were a few thick slices of juicy pork, a pile of mashed potatoes, a salad of mixed fruit, and a small round bread roll glistening with a butter glaze. He ate a bit of the pork; there some strange yet delightfully pleasant sauce all over it. He tried the other foods on his plate and found that he liked them as well.

"I tell you what, Ace," Theseus said as he dipped his pork into his potatoes. "This Petra is no Helen of Troy, but she sure can cook."

"Yeah, you guys don't know how thankful I am not to be eating oats anymore," Iolaus added.

"I think we do, Iolaus," Lillith corrected with a smile. She reached for a date from the bowl sitting amidst their little group and happily popped it into her mouth.

"We should probably be careful, though," Iolaus said with his sarcastic lilt. "The last time we got a new cook he tried to assassinate Jason."

"I think the worst she could do is kill you just by looking at you," Theseus answered and smirked, amazed at his own cleverness.

"Well, you never know," Iolaus leaned on his elbows and looked across the table at the dark-skinned cadet. "That trunk was really heavy, but she must have gotten it in her wagon somehow."

Something solid suddenly struck Hercules in his temple. He gently shook his head and looked around to try to find out what had happened. A shifty-eyed cadet caught his attention; his name was Athanasius. The scrawny teenager had had problems with Hercules ever since he joined the Academy, but he had never had the guts to confront Hercules. Maybe now he was trying to start something.

"What's wrong, Herc?" Iolaus asked as he munched on his buttery roll.

"Something just hit me in the face," Hercules replied and pursed his lips together. "And I think it was Athanasius."

It started innocently as Theseus and Iolaus grabbed dates from the bowl and began flicking them at Athanasius a few tables away. Whenever the young cadet would glare at them, they would turn away and snigger. Athanasius grabbed a handful of dates from the bowl at his table and started flinging them at Iolaus, encouraging his friends to do the same. All at once, it turned into a war. Before Hercules's very eyes, friend turned against friend as fruit, potatoes, dates, and rolls were hurled across the dining hall. Beside him, a glob of potatoes struck Lillith square in the face. With an excited yell, the stout cadet grabbed a handful of dates and threw them at the perpetrator as hard as she could. Out of the corner of his eye, Hercules perceived a large green apple in the air on a direct course for Iolaus's head. He reached out to intercept it with his god-like reflexes, but stopped short and stared in shock.

The food war came to an abrupt halt.

Petra, clad in a stained white apron over her garments, clutched the apple securely in her hand only a few finger-widths from Iolaus's head; the curly-haired cadet jumped when he noticed her presence. She quirked one of her bushy eyebrows and looked at every cadet in the room. Hercules shivered when her heavy gaze passed over him. Silently and decisively, she walked over to the flaxen-haired Athanasius and set the apple on the table in front of him. The cadet's shifty eyes glanced from the apple to Petra, unsure what to do. Petra grabbed him firmly by the ear; he winced and let a squeal escape his mouth as she pulled him to his feet. No one dared to laugh. Petra released the poor fellow's ear and withdrew a scroll that had been tucked into her belt. She unrolled it and handed it to Athanasius, pointing to the passage she wanted him to read.

With shaking fingers Athanasius grabbed the scroll and read in a quivering voice: "These are the rules of decorum in the dining hall: Fighting will not be allowed. Throwing food or other objects will not be allowed. Respect toward others and their properties will be observed," Athanasius took a long breath before continuing. "These rules have been set in place by Headmaster Chiron, Feducious, and Petra for the safety and well-being of every cadet attending the Academy. Punishments for violating the rules of decorum are decided at the discretion of Petra of Potidaea, director of food services at Chiron's Academy. Signed, Petra of Potidaea. Signed, Feducious. Signed, Chiron, Headmaster of the Academy."

With a curt nod, Petra took back the scroll. Athanasius tried to sit down, but the intimidating cook crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. Warily, the cadet looked at her for further instruction; she pointed to the empty spot next to her, indicating that he should stand beside her. Once he had complied with her unspoken wishes, Petra pointed to each individual cadet who had thrown a piece of food and bid them to join Athanasius at the front of the room. By the time she was finished, only Hercules and a small handful of other cadets remained at the tables. Petra pointed firmly toward the kitchens, following the cadets as they trudged away from their hot food to their punishment for the food fight. Iolaus looked over his shoulder at shot a pleading look at his friend, but Petra stepped in his line of sight and wordlessly goaded him forward.

Hercules sat there in stunned silence, his mouth agape and eyebrows lifted to his hairline. It was not every day that a cook would display such authority over the cadets. The old cook would usually let the cadets have free reign during their chow time. This one was different. How did she have so much influence over them, even without speaking a single word? This was going to be an interesting experience for sure.

* * *

Later that evening at Kora's inn, the four friends shared their versions of Petra's torture over mugs of frothy ale. A live band played soft music in the background, but that did nothing to soothe the tense atmosphere at the friends' table near one of the windows. The inn was almost empty except for the four cadets and few other customers on the opposite side of the room.

"Talk about an ice queen!" Theseus exclaimed with a frustrated gesture of his hands.

"I know!" Lillith added from her place next to Theseus. "And I thought Feducious was uptight."

"You have no idea, Herc," Iolaus said as he clutched his mug with both hands; he was sitting next to Lillith. "She made us wash the dishes, organize the pantries, _and_ polish the ovens. And then after that, she made us all scrub the food off the tables and the floor with little tiny brushes." He sighed and gently rubbed his face with his hands, cringing when he got a whiff of their smell.

"So it was bad, I take it?" Hercules asked, thinly masking the humor in his voice.

"It was horrible," said Iolaus. "My hands still reek of mashed potatoes."

"I guess that'll teach you not to start food fights again, Iolaus," Hercules said in jest.

Iolaus jabbed his finger at Hercules. "It was Athanasius, not me."

"I think she's got a thing for you Iolaus," Theseus commented with a wry smile. "That's why she saved you from that apple."

Iolaus's face contorted into a grimace, earning him some hearty laughter from his friends. "Eww," he said and chugged his ale to drown the grotesque idea.

Hercules grinned and took a swig of his ale, but his smile quickly faded. "Hey guys, have you noticed that she hasn't said a word since she got here?"

"I was wondering about that," Iolaus observed thoughtfully. "She didn't even say anything when she was punishing us--just gave us the evil eye." He visibly shivered. "Creepy."

"Do you think she's mute?" Lillith asked.

"I don't know," Hercules replied, resting his chin on his hand in thought. Their new cook was a strange one indeed.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I've already got one review. Woohoo! I've got lots of cool stuff planned for our hero-cadets, so stay tuned. :D


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